


Fallen, Stolen, Gone

by Tysis



Category: Assassin's Creed - All Media Types
Genre: Gen, Letter fic, POV Outsider
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-11
Updated: 2019-09-11
Packaged: 2020-10-04 11:30:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,677
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20470313
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tysis/pseuds/Tysis
Summary: A letter from Brother Octavo, detailing the theft of an angel from the abbey where he was in residence.(Highly influenced by Esama's Stone Angel. Like, seriously. Go read that instead.)Edit 1/9: spacing issues





	Fallen, Stolen, Gone

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Stone Angel](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14974997) by [esama](https://archiveofourown.org/users/esama/pseuds/esama). 

Father Aurelius, 

I hope you remain in as good health as ever. Friar Matthew bid me thank you for your advice on keeping away nosy villagers. Apparently it was most successful and he was able to complete his pilgrimage without interference.

You may be interested to know that the stained glass window was completed just yesterday, sped along by the recent absence of the Knights who called themselves Templar. They have been gone for only a week and some days but already I can feel peace return to the Abbey. However, it is the manner of their departure which prompts me to write to you now. The knights did not leave under their own power but were slain in the dead of night. All 4 dozen bodies were accounted for. 

This missive comes days later than it should have, and for that, I should apologize. I did not know how to explain the incident, I still cannot do it justice. It is an unbelievable tale, but I will tell you the story of that night, which is corroborated by my Brothers and Sisters of the faith. On my Oath, not a word of it will be a lie. Please forgive me for writing more floridly than usual.

The seasons are turning in the north, food was becoming more scarce and no one anticipated the drain the knights created on our resources. The weeks before the event were harrowing. The stocks and reserves were nearly depleted and many of us went without sufficient food. 

We had asked the goodmen to hunt for us, but what they brought back could hardly replace what they were consuming. They would leave at the break of dawn, spending the whole day in the woods (which did help in way of not having to provide a midday meal). Even with the vast amount of time they spent ‘hunting’ all they ever returned with was some mushrooms and occasionally a small deer. It was never enough to justify their absence but we dared not question them

But then, merely a fortnight and some days ago they returned early. The sun was still high in the sky as they came to the Abbey gate, dragging behind their horses a great metal box covered with chains and great spikes that scored up the flooring quite badly. 

They were panicked with haste, as if something was chasing them but also giddy to the point of hysterics. 

Unfortunately, they made merry long into the night and out past the day, celebrating as if there had been some great victory. In the wake of their jubilation, meditation and sleep were stolen from the walls of the Abbey. This disturbance went on for many days before stopping abruptly on the 3rd. Many of my Brothers and Sisters breathed a sigh of relief. I alone was suspicious.

I was just returning from my rounds of the walls and beginning my watch on the atrium when I first noticed the absence. No rousing cheers echoed from the wing, no drunken laughter. Not a clatter of plates, slamming of a tankard or even a snore was to be heard from the knights quarters. At first, I was merely relieved. 

I sat my watch until the 4th hours but when I went to return the keys, something stayed my hand. Something was odd about the silence. In the end, even after deliberation, this maddening curiosity of mine drove me onward. 

For weeks, since they had begun foraging I had heard them speak of mystical, incredible, impossible things. I was enthralled by their tales, hearing them as I waited at the door to retrieve plates from the evening meal. This swaying of my heart drove me to a near-death that night. Father Rimalus has often remarked upon this insatiable curiosity of mine but I never truly listened to him or tried to rectify it and on that occasion, I could find no remorse.

I alerted the next watcher and turned over the keys. All the keys but one. I told no one of my intentions, most being asleep at any rate, and made my way with all urgency to the north wing. Each step I took seemed to ring like the Papel bell in the noon sun, and it occurred to me as I sped onwards that perhaps I should be cautious. Thusly I slowed my feet but in doing so the hall before me seemed to elongate before my eyes, hours seemed to pass before I finally reach the entrance of their rooms. Even under the shadows of the moon, the handle seemed warm beneath my hand. I hesitated one last time, the eyes in the dark boring into my back.

I turned the key slowly, gently and then the handle. The door creaked and shook with the strain before finally slipping loose. Light from inside blinded me and I threw up my arm in an attempt to ward it off. Waiting for the spots in my eyes to vanish, I felt my way into the room. When I could finally open my eyes, a hellish sight lay before me.

Blood covered the stone walls. Bodies discarded on the floor by their eternal souls. There was a time that I could have named each and everyone of them, if face if not by manner. My dinner left me on the threshold and it was several minutes before I could stand again. As I trembled against the wood of the doorway, my imagination ran wild. What could have done this. Had whatever they brought back in the cage escaped? But what could have escaped the many chains and locks that garlanded the door. No, the attack had to have come from the outside.

The knights had fought hard for their lives. The many swords that were scattered and fragmented around them attested to that. They had fought and they died trying to stop something from entering the wing.

When my feet could hold my weight once more, I staggered back upright against the door. With ginger footsteps, I advanced over the limbs and gore. Dripping blood plinked like gentle rain of the bodies of those godly men. What remained of them that is. The corpses were deftly sliced open in gaping wounds that were as deep as they were long. 

My heart pounded in my ears as I crept through this battlefield. 

What cursed wraith had taken the life from them, with nary a sound to be heard by the Order. What else could have?

The most central rooms sat wide open to the cold tongues of a night breeze. I could see no bodies inside, the floor only illuminated by the light of the moon. When I dared to venture inside, I saw the great cage lying on its side. The metal walls were torn asunder by some force beyond any in this world. The key I had grasped so tightly slipped from my nerveless fingers. My foot came down on one of the rusted chain links the size of my wrists. It was pried apart and scattered in many pieces around the room. I bent quickly to retrieve the old key. 

Glass shattered behind me. I turned, falling to my knees. In the now open window, surrounded by vicious teeth of broken glass and silhouetted only by the moon loomed a pale specter. It stood on the sill, eyes blazing gold and hunched over itself. When my eyes fell upon its cargo, I could scarcely believe them. In that moment short I thought it a hallucination. A trick, contrived by some foul heresy. But now and to the end of my days, I am prepared to swear on my life and on the Name of The Lord himself that resting in the arms of the grim wraith was an Angel.

It took the shape of a young man, slender and unbearded. Tattered robes fell about its body, enrobing its arms and legs. Golden wings, held bundled in a sheet, seemed to tremble under the light of the stars. Cold shacks adorned its wrists with drops of silvery Ichor. The holy teardrops fell to the floor with an unearthly chime, as if a harp was plucked with each descent. 

At the sight of that, I felt my own blood run cold. No, that was no trick, no treachery. An ungodly fury began burning in my chest, and in its path, I could feel my pity and mourning of the Templars death evaporate like morning dew. This was no earthly creature they had captured, but an emissary of God. And they had chained it to the cold earth like an animal. Winched its bonds so tight as to see it bleed fair upon the dirt.

Upon this revelation, the glowing eyes of the wraith began to dim. I had passed some kind of test, it seemed. It stepped from the window sill, the angel still its arms, and departed from the Abbey. I did not block their departure, merely gathered what spare clothes and food we had, offering it to the Wraith. Not once did it speak to me.

I know, with all the certainty left in my heart, that if I had in any way impeded it I would have been slain on the spot. It seems that heaven had patience that night and they passed from our hall without further incident.

Others saw their exit as the Brothers woke to prepare breakfast. Those that witnessed it have also written to you, as a means of backing up my story. Their letters should be sent alongside this one.

I have one request of you. Your network of informants spreads far afield and across many cities. I had hoped to track the angel's time on earth until it inevitably returns to the Lord’s side. Any information you may have on the Order of the Knights Templar would be vastly appreciated as well, but I warn you to be very particular in who you trust in this matter.

In Faith and In Brotherhood

Signed,

Brother Octavo

**Author's Note:**

> I have a draft for a reply letter but my laptop is in for repairs =_= hopefully this formatting make it look less wall of text like


End file.
